


3 - Banks and Guns and Back Up

by PapayaK



Series: Whump > Boredom [3]
Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:34:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23834680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PapayaK/pseuds/PapayaK
Summary: Whump > Boredom
Series: Whump > Boredom [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727218
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	3 - Banks and Guns and Back Up

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! Like many of us, I’m bored. (I love being bored - really gets the creative juices flowing) I really wanted to write something epic, but apparently that doesn’t happen on demand. So I have decided to write a bunch of snippets of whump. (like Whumptober) Some will have a bit of story - others will be a shameless excuse for pure whump. My goal is to keep them all around 1000 words, but we’ll see. Also, fair warning, I’m putting this note at the beginning of each one since I don’t know which one you’ll read first.  
> Thank you for reading and please review if you have a moment. -Papaya

So maybe he should have called for back-up.

Too late now, he supposed. 

In his defense he’d had a good reason for not calling. He couldn’t have called Lassie and Jules because he didn’t have enough. There wasn’t enough evidence. There wasn’t even enough for him to throw together some sort of ridiculous vision that might have convinced them to investigate. 

He had called Gus, but his best friend was stuck in mandatory meetings all day. Stupid job.

Even if he had told them, they wouldn’t have come. He knew he needed more: more evidence, more clues, more proof, more something. So he had come out to this creepy, raccoon-infested cabin in the woods all by himself to get more.

He hadn’t even known if there would be anything there.

There had been.

Unfortunately for him.

The cabin had been filled with guns and ammo, all laid out and ready for their buyer’s inspection. It also had quite a bit more tech inside than you would guess from its rustic, broken-down, moss-covered exterior.

Imagine Shawn’s surprise when he’d peeked in a window and saw a bank of computer monitors; one of which had a clear shot of him peeking in the window. He’d spun around, immediately spotting the camera cleverly concealed in a hollow tree.

And then he’d run.

He’d run because you don’t set up a bank of computer monitors and not have someone there to monitor them.

He’d heard the door of the cabin slam open and at least two men rush out, shouting at him to stop.

He hadn’t. Instead he’d begun to zig-zag through the woods, diving into the thickest foliage he could find.

They’d begun to fire.

He’d zig-zagged harder. Knowing they were firing (mostly) blind didn’t make the bullets any less terrifying.

He knew there was a river in a shallow ravine just ahead. He hoped he could find a hiding place along its banks.

And then his left thigh exploded in pain and he became acquainted with the riverbank a lot faster than he’d planned. His forward momentum carried him over a fallen log and down the steep drop to the water below. His tumble ended in the mud just shy of the river itself. Adrenaline pumping, he scrambled back against the bank, praying there was enough of an overhang to keep him hidden from above.

He never realized that the growing darkness was not due to the setting sun.

oO0Oo

Shawn gasped back to consciousness. The only thing that existed in the entire universe was the bonfire that was his leg. He instinctively grabbed at it but stopped just short of actually touching. There was too much pain. His hands shook, hovering above the wound. He was too terrified to move or do anything that might make it worse. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. He wanted to squirm away and leave his leg there in the mud.

He couldn’t. He could only lie there and hurt.

Finally he puffed out the breath he’d been holding and began to pant. He tried to think. There was something tickling at the back of his very foggy mind. Something important. 

Arms dealers! Murderous men who were selling guns. They were looking for him. Where were they?

Shawn twisted to try and look up at the top of the bank. The movement pulled at his wound and he nearly passed out again.

It was too dark now anyway. He couldn’t make out anything more than vague shapes. He decided the dealers didn’t matter anymore. If they found him, they found him. There was nothing he could do about it.

His breathing slowed a little. He could hear Henry instructing him in first aid. Apply pressure— stop the bleeding— clean the wound.

He forced himself to take a deeper breath and think. 

Trying not to jar his leg, he reached into his pocket for his Swiss. Never leave home without it. Henry’s voice reminded him. 

With trembling hands, he ever-so-carefully slipped the blade between his torn and filthy jeans and his torn and filthy skin. He needed to make the hole in his jeans bigger. He didn’t really know why he wanted to see the wound, but it felt like the right thing to do.

He began to saw at the edges of the torn fabric. The denim cut fairly easily, but the cloth had fused to the wound. Pulling it away brought a whole new world of pain. His vision clouded again. He laid his head back against the riverbank, breathing hard.

When he opened his eyes, Gus was there. “That’s infected, Shawn.” 

“Wha?” Shawn squinted up at him. He seemed to be glowing a little. But he wasn’t surprised, Gus should be glowing. He was just that awesome.

Gus pointed at his leg, “That’s infected. You’ve been lying there for hours. You’re feverish. You’re gonna be delirious soon.” He looked up at the top of the bank, “You need to get out of here… Get help.”

Shawn tried to look up at the bank where Gus had indicated. When he looked back to ask Gus how, exactly, he was supposed to do that, his buddy was gone.

“Gus,” Shawn complained, “Don’t be a disappearing dolphin...” He made a dismissive gesture toward the spot where Gus had been and turned his attention back to his wound.

Gingerly peeling back the denim, it was immediately clear that Gus had been right. There was just enough light to see that the exit wound in the front of his thigh was an angry red. It was still bleeding sluggishly, but the dark red blood was mixed with a cloudy liquid that smelled like rotting meat.

How long had he been lying in the mud?

The sun had not yet set when he’d first arrived at the cabin. Now it was completely dark and he could see a sliver of moon peeking between the branches high above him.

This was not good.

No one knew where he was. No one was expecting him to be anywhere any time soon. No one would miss him for… possibly days. He closed his eyes in despair.

When he opened them, he saw Jules. She was standing out in the river under a spotlight, talking on her phone. That seemed odd, but then she turned and smiled at him and he forgot everything else. No one could smile like Jules. She was really, really good at it. And the spotlight made her golden hair into an angelic halo. She was still talking on her phone.

Phone!

Shawn grabbed for his with his right hand. He pressed his left against his forehead. He must be feverish if it took him this long to remember that he had a phone. He pulled it out of his pocket, smearing mud and blood all over the screen. He wiped it on his shirt and looked at it: 1:47 am, no signal, twenty-four percent battery.

He rested his phone against his chest, closed his eyes, and tried to breathe. No signal. No help. No way out.

He was going to die here.

“Seriously, Spencer?” Lassie asked him, “Is that all you’ve got? One little scratch and you give up? Typical.”

“Lassie—” Shawn reached toward him.

Lassiter was wearing sunglasses and chewing gum. In fact he looked a lot like Sledge Hammer*. 

“You had a signal…” Lassie admonished him.

“...up by the cabin…” Shawn slurred his response.

Lassie, who had procured a toothpick from somewhere, made a what-are-you-waiting-for gesture at him.

Shawn sighed. He looked at the steep bank. There was no way he could climb it in his current condition. Even if he could manage it with one leg, he lacked the strength.

He looked back at Lassie who was now Henry. “C’mon kid, you know the bank isn’t that steep everywhere. Think. How did you know there was a river here?”

Shawn blinked. It was really hard to keep track when the people kept changing.

“Think, Shawn!” 

“Can Jules come out to play?” Shawn whimpered.

“Shawn—” Henry scolded, “Close your eyes.”

“Da-ad—” 

But Henry just looked at him expectantly so Shawn surrendered and closed his eyes.

oO0Oo

The second time Shawn woke up he knew exactly what his dad had been talking about. Apparently his little nap had done him some good. The fire in his leg had subsided to an intense ache and his head was marginally clearer.

Two things were now very clear to him: He needed water, and he needed a signal.

He could do this… At least he could try.

Henry had reminded him that the riverbank had been much less steep when he had first seen it. In fact, he’d left his bike next to the river and it had been wider, calmer, and shallower there than it was here. How far away was that?

He put his fingers to his temples and tried to figure it out. Gus was much better at this boy scout stuff than he. He peeked, just in case Gus had decided to show up, but apparently his fever wasn’t high enough.

He had no idea how far he’d have to crawl but he knew which direction to go. 

First things first. He shrugged out of the button-down he wore over his t-shirt and gingerly wrapped it around his thigh. He took a deep breath and tightened it as much as he could stand. It hurt, but when he was done, it actually felt a little better.

Next he forced himself to crawl to the water’s edge. He scooped up some water from the clearest, fastest flowing area he could reach and drank. If he was swallowing any parasites, well— they’d have to wait their turn to wreak havoc on his system. He had bigger problems.

Then he looked downstream. He set his sights on the tree at the bend in the river that was blocking his view. It was about three yards away. He could make it that far. 

He began to crawl, dragging his leg behind him; his wound throbbing more with every inch.

Three yards = nine feet = about eleven burritos = a Gus and a half. 

His comparisons kept him distracted enough that he reached the tree without incident. Now that he could see around the bend, he could see quite a bit farther downriver. 

Here the river began to widen and the bank smoothed out. He shivered. He kept seeing shapes moving in his peripheral vision. Things that he knew weren’t actually there. His leg burned, the fire rekindled. 

He ignored it all.

He could do this.

He began to crawl again, this time away from the water and toward higher ground.

When he was about halfway up the bank he realized that he could see quite a bit better. There was some light in the sky. His nap must have been longer than he realized. He pulled out his phone again. 5:17 am, still no signal, sixteen percent battery.

Uh oh. As much as he hated to do it, he turned his phone off and slid it back into his pocket to save the battery. 

He looked at the top of the bank. Even though it was a lot lower here than where he had fallen, and the slope was much more gentle, it still looked like an impossible distance. Plus it was moving. He tilted his head. The top of the bank was suddenly within reach. He reached out to grab it, but as soon as he did it shot miles away to where he could barely see it in the distance.

“Your fever’s spiked,” Gus told him.

Shawn groaned and rolled onto his back. “Maybe another nap?” It sounded good to him…

“You do that, and you won’t wake up, Shawn,” Gus told him plainly.

“Gus—” Shawn murmured as his eyes slid closed, “Don’t be a…”

“Shawn!” Henry was shouting at him, “You are the laziest excuse for a… Get up!”

Shawn ignored him.

“Get up! Get up! Get up!” 

He was so tired. 

Henry wasn’t really there. He wouldn’t know if Shawn obeyed or not. He smirked at his own rebellion.

“Shawn…” Jules gentle encouragement came from the top of the bank. “Can you call me? Please?”

“Phone’s dead,” He whined, “No signal.”

“Please, Shawn,” She murmured to him, “Just a little farther.”

He’d try. For Jules. He rolled back onto his stomach.

Somehow, someone had chained a huge boulder to his leg. The chain was digging painfully into his wound. How could they expect him to crawl anywhere under these conditions? He couldn’t possibly pull anything that big.

“I need you, Shawn,” Jules whispered. He couldn’t see her, but he could hear her voice.

He dragged himself upward. A few more inches. Then a few more. Maybe if he crawled far enough, he could leave his leg behind. That would be nice.

He made one last push and collapsed onto his back. That was it. He knew he could go no farther.

He pulled out his phone and turned it on.

He had a signal!

He called Gus.

oO0Oo

Gus woke to the sound of his phone ringing. It was twenty-three minutes before his alarm was supposed to go off. Was there anything worse? Having those last twenty-three minutes of glorious sleep stolen? By Shawn? Typical.

He thought about not answering.

If he let it go to voicemail, maybe— just maybe he could go back to sleep.

He rolled over.

The phone stopped ringing.

Gus was almost asleep again when his phone beeped, signaling that a voicemail had been recorded. 

Great. Now he’d never be able to go to sleep until he listened to the message.

He sighed, picked up his phone without raising his head from his pillow, and played the message.

“Gus?” Shawn’s voice sounded really strange, and suddenly Gus was wide awake. “Gus? Where’d you go? Did you—? Gus? I thought… There’s a chain. I’m not going to be able to get to the top.”

Gus sat up in bed. He replayed the message.

He tried to call Shawn back. It went straight to voicemail.

oO0Oo

When Gus didn't answer, Shawn called Juliet.

Juliet was already up. She was just tying her shoes to go for her morning run when the phone rang. She answered it right away. “Hi, Shawn! What are you doing up?”

“Up?” He asked, “I didn’t make it all the way.”

“Shawn?” She asked suddenly concerned. “Are you okay?”

“There were guys. With guns. I didn’t have enough. Now I do,” he told her, “Will you investigate now? You’n Lassie?”

“Shawn? What are you talking about? Where are you?”

“Bank.”

“What? What bank?”

“I need—”

And then the call went dead.

oO0Oo

Shawn stared at the phone in his hand. It was completely dead. He stared at it some more.

He blinked sluggishly and the phone was gone. He didn’t know where. He didn’t really care. He looked up at the sun that was now filtering through the leaves. It was pretty. He liked how it seemed to sparkle. He wished his friends would come back. He didn’t like being alone.

At least his leg didn’t hurt anymore. Nothing hurt anymore. He felt very floaty.

He felt himself floating away. It was very peaceful. He smiled.

oO0Oo

Of course the two odd phone calls Shawn had managed to make had sparked a lot of activity. Juliet called Gus, Gus called Henry. Fifteen minutes later they were all at the station hoping to get some GPS data from Shawn’s phone.

‘Guys with guns,’ Shawn had said, and something about a bank. 

Gus reported that he knew Shawn had had a vision of some arms dealers, but had no details. He didn’t know what a bank had to do with anything. Or a chain, or what Shawn needed to get to the top of. And he didn’t know where Shawn had gone to look.

Finally they learned that Shawn’s phone was now dead, but they had determined its last location within a mile.

Someone provided a map with a circle showing the area where Shawn's phone had to be.

Henry leaned over it. “Bank,” he said, pointing at the river that flowed through the edge of the circle. 

Lassiter nodded. “Cabin... and road,” he added, also pointing.

Juliet took up the tale, “That must be where his vision led him. If that cabin is a hideout for gun runners…”

They looked at Vick.

“Get SWAT,” She instructed, “I want them there first. We don’t know what we’re going to find, but we better be prepared. And get an ambulance there, too. I’m not taking any chances.”

And everyone moved.

oO0Oo

SWAT was supposed to be first on the scene, but Henry didn’t care. He and Gus jumped into his truck and headed up into the hills. There were only a few hundred feet of river that had been inside the circle of the cell tower’s reach. If Shawn was on a bank, that’s where he had to be.

Henry parked as close to the river as he could. He jumped out and began to follow the bank. Gus shadowed him, trying to avoid the worst of the mud.

Henry recognized the bend in the river from the map. “Here, Gus,” he said, “He’s got to be close.”

“Uh, Mr. Spencer?” Gus asked, staring at the bank beneath the slight overhang. 

Henry turned to see Gus staring at the mud, looking decidedly green. He followed the younger man’s gaze. “That’s a lot of blood,” Henry swallowed.

But now, using that as a starting point, he could discern the tracks where Shawn had dragged himself away. “This way!” Henry shouted.

Now that they knew what to look for, Shawn’s path wasn’t hard to follow. Nor was it far. In fact, Gus almost ran straight into Henry’s back when he suddenly stopped. 

Shaw was lying halfway up the riverbank on his back. The wound on his leg looked horrible. It was swollen. The makeshift bandage was saturated with blood and pus and mud, and even from that distance, Henry could tell it was badly infected. But Shawn himself looked peaceful. His eyes were closed and he had a slight smile on his pale and feverish face.

“Shawn,” Henry whispered and forced his feet into motion. He knelt next to his son, Gus hovering nearby, trying not to throw up. “C’mon Shawn.”

He pressed two fingers to Shawn’s carotid artery. As he did, Shawn’s fever-glazed eyes opened and he squinted as the morning sun was directly behind Henry.

“Hey, Dad,” he whispered, “nice halo.”

Henry smiled at him with tears in his eyes.

“Jules’ was better though.”

Henry moved his hand to rest in Shawn’s hair, feeling the heat radiating from his body, “I’m sure it was.”

“Hi, Gus!” Shawn’s bleary gaze slid over to his buddy. “Guess what? I made it!”

“Yeah, Shawn,” Gus responded, “You’re gonna be fine.”

oO0Oo  
End  
oO0Oo

* For those who don’t know, ”Sledgehammer” was a show about “The adventures of a deranged and dumb police detective who always looks for the most violent solution to any problem” (IMDB). It aired 1986-1988.


End file.
